


A Man And His Ship

by deltaTea



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Other, man/ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltaTea/pseuds/deltaTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>presented with only light editing, and no comment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man And His Ship

It had been a long day, hadn’t it? Oh, yes, it had. Balthier sighed, finally settling into his seat in the Strahl’s cockpit. He patted the control panel lovingly. He’d missed it.

Though he hadn’t built the ship, by this point he may as well have. Nearly every part of the Strahl had been replaced, upgraded, or otherwise improved by Balthier himself, a fact he was infinitely proud of. The Strahl was his pride and joy. He hated to be away from it.

“Oh, you missed me, didn’t you?” He purred to the console. He talked to the ship, sometimes. It was something Fran had either learned to ignore or avoid entirely. At the moment, she was doing the latter, choosing instead to take refuge elsewhere on the ship. In effect, Balthier was alone with his ship.

He began double-checking the readings, the engines. Oh, when he powered her up, she purred. She was in fine condition, as usual.

Ah. That was...odd, to say the least.

He’d always found the vibrations pleasant, in a way, but not…

He shook his head, trying to ignore it, as they prepared to take off. Besides, Fran would join him again soon--what would she think of that sight?

He fidgeted a little. It...didn’t seem to be going away. No, in fact, it seemed to be getting worse. Honestly, what the hell was wrong with him? Was something in that drink? No, no, surely not, he was always very particular...

Eventually it grew unbearable. Reluctantly, he locked the door to the cockpit. He briefly considered heading to his bunk to take care of this, but decided the risk of getting caught between here and there was too great. Best to just...get it over with, as quickly and with as little mess as possible.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing. He unbuttoned his trousers, taking himself in one hand. _Dear lord_ , he thought with disgust, _this hard already? I do hope this doesn’t become a common occurrence…_

He began to stroke his cock, slowly. If he was going to bother doing it, he may as well do it the way he liked. He worried his lip between his teeth gently, working his way up to a tolerable pace. He moaned quietly.

He squirmed against the chair, getting a bit more comfortable.  Everything seemed to narrow down to the need for friction, needing _more, harder, more_! It felt like some sort of sick fever dream. When he spotted an attractive little nook in the wall, he didn’t think twice before putting his dick into it.

He chuckled breathlessly. He supposed they were right when they said he loved his ship too much. He started to thrust his hips, fucking the wall. It was cold, but if anything that urged him on, rather than acting as a deterrent. He fucked it like he would a woman; Slow, gentle, and thorough. “Nnh, like that--you like that, I’ll bet. Ohh…” he muttered, going faster. He was so close. So damn close. Almost there…

There was a knock at the door. “Balthier? Are you alright?” came Fran’s voice from the other side. He froze. “You should be up by now. A lazy excuse for a pirate, you are.”

At once, he jolted awake, dazed and confused. He heard Fran’s heels click on the floor as she headed on down the corridor. He could only puzzle at the absurdity of the dream, staring irritably at the rather prominent case of morning wood tenting his covers.

 


End file.
